The Rake to Redeem Her
The Rake to Rescue Her
The Rake to Reveal Her
Silk & Scandal
The Smuggler and the Society Bride
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Who else could I dedicate my “son and dog” story to but Eve Gaddy? Brainstorming and critique partner, conference traveling buddy, and friend who has shared so much of this up-and-down writer’s journey with me. You’re the best.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
London—March 26th, 1832
Laughing and energised, Christopher Lattimar, Member of Parliament for Wiltshire, led his friends into the small private room at the Quill and Gavel, a tavern on a quiet street near the Houses of Parliament. ‘Time to celebrate our achievement. I’d say it’s a night for wine, women and song!’
‘Or at least wine and women,’ Ben Tawny agreed with a grin.
‘Two of my favourite things,’ Christopher said.
‘As we well know,’ Ben replied.
‘You should,’ Christopher tossed back. ‘Since until recently, you outdid me in enjoying both.’
‘Enough, you two,’ Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, said with a mock frown. ‘Ah, here’s Ransen with some ale. Though, given the momentousness of the achievement, Ben, you might have ordered champagne.’
‘Too French!’ Ben replied. ‘To celebrate the first change in four hundred years in the way Parliamentary representatives are chosen, we needed good English ale.’
‘We’re not there yet,’ David Tanner Smith cautioned as he deposited his tall frame into a chair. ‘The Third Reform Bill only passed the House today. We’ve still got to get it through the Lords.’
‘After all the riots and dissention when the Second Bill failed last autumn, the Lords wouldn’t dare oppose it now,’ Giles said. ‘The country won’t stand for any further delay!’
‘We’ll see,’ Davie replied. ‘Still, getting it passed in the House was a momentous achievement.’ Grabbing a mug from the tray the innkeeper left for them, he lifted it high. ‘To Lord Grey’s leadership!’
‘And to yours,’ Ben said, raising his mug to Davie. ‘We provided the agitation, but you honed the bill’s provisions.’
‘I think we should drink to us all,’ Christopher said. ‘Who would have imagined ten years ago that four Oxford misfits would band together, win seats in Parliament, and help bring about the biggest change in British government since the Middle Ages?’ He raised his mug. ‘To my dear colleagues and best friends. To the Hellions!’
‘To the Hellions,’ the others echoed, and downed a long draught.
‘Shall we talk strategy?’ Davie proposed. ‘Draw up a list of which peers are most likely to be persuaded, and decide the best arguments to sway them?’
‘We shall—but not tonight,’ Giles said. ‘Let’s just enjoy this first victory. Speaking of which…’ he paused to drain his mug and set it on the table ‘…I’m afraid I must abandon the celebration. Maggie’s increasing, as you know, and hasn’t been feeling well. I should get back to her. Don’t let me break up the party, though! Have several more rounds, and tell Ransen to put it on my tab.’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I should go, too,’ David said. ‘I can’t wait to share the news with Faith.’
‘She’ll be so proud of you,’ Christopher said, admiration for his quiet, determined, brilliant friend filling him. ‘Through skill and planning, the Dowager Duchess’s commoner husband has brought a recalcitrant aristocracy to heel.’
Davie waved a deprecating hand. ‘A joint achievement—for all of us.’ Setting down his own mug, he said, ‘Goodnight, gentlemen! And thank you—for your hard work, and most especially, for your friendship all these years.’
‘That goes for all of us,’ Ben said. Raising his mug to the company, he said, ‘To the Hellions.’
Giles and Davie clapped Ben on the shoulder as they walked out. After finishing his own mug, Ben added it to the tray. ‘I’m off as well.’
‘Isn’t Alyssa away on one of her sketching expeditions?’ Christopher asked. ‘You could come out with me. Just a few rounds of ale, for old time’s sake.’
Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘A few rounds of ale? What about the “woman” part of the celebration? I understand you recently parted company with the Divine Clarissa. Have you replaced her yet?’
‘Not yet. There are several matrons of great appetite and small morals who have made their interest quite clear.’
‘And Mrs Anderson recently left the Duke of Portland’s protection. I seem to remember her casting lures in your direction, even while she was with Portland.’
‘Can’t help being irresistible,’ Christopher said, and ducked his friend’s punch. ‘Oh, they are all lovely enough. But none of them…quite tempt me.’
The image of a courtesan who had always more than tempted him came to mind. How fast he’d jump to follow, were Ellie Parmenter to crook a finger in his direction!
Shaking his thoughts free, he said, ‘How about spending the rest of the evening at Madame Aurelie’s? Good wine, lovely women to pour it, and a few hands of cards. Almost as respectable as a gentleman’s club. I don’t think Alyssa would object.’
Ben gave him a wry grin. ‘She probably wouldn’t. But going to a gaming hell run by a famous former courtesan, with ladies discreetly available for select customers who can afford their high fees, isn’t the sort of behaviour I want to indulge in.’
Before Christopher could remind him how often he’d indulged in it in the past, his friend quickly added, ‘I know I could accompany you, share a bottle of wine, a round of cards, and nothing more than conversation with ladies who are as witty as they are beautiful. But…it just doesn’t appeal any more. Sorry. Don’t let me spoil your pleasure, though! In fact, in honour of our frequent revels in the past, drink twice the wine and beguile twice the ladies, for me.’
He gave Christopher’s hand a pat. ‘Enjoy yourself—as if I need to tell you that! I’ll take the tray down.’ Picking it up, he gave Christopher a wink and headed out the door.
Though Madame Aurelie and her charming company beckoned, as Christopher watched his friend leave, he couldn’t stifle a little sinking feeling in his gut…that surely wasn’t loneliness.
CHAPTER ONE
Two weeks later
Afternoon sun, diffused to a soft glow by the sheer curtains at the window, cast a flattering light over the face and figure of the voluptuous blonde in the diaphanous dressing gown. As Christopher crossed the sitting room to the couch on which she reclined, the lady stretched out an arm, a diamond bracelet dangling from her fingers. ‘Christopher, darling, what a pleasant surprise! Fasten this for me, won’t you? The clasp is troublesome.’
With an indulgent smile, Christophe
r bent to perform that task, tweaking one blonde curl after he finished. ‘Troublesome, like its owner?’ he teased.
China-blue eyes widening in reproach, she pursed full pink lips in a pout. ‘That’s no way to talk to your mama.’
‘Maybe not. But the usual rules of filial behaviour don’t apply when your mother is a Beauty who still twists men around her little finger and looks more like a sister than a parent.’
A fact that, depending on the day, inspired him alternately with pride, amusement or chagrin.
‘Where did you get that new bauble? Henderson?’ he asked, naming the most assiduous of her current admirers.
She waved a hand. ‘Yes. Henderson positively begged to be allowed to send me a small token of his esteem, so I at last relented. The bracelet is lovely,’ she observed, lifting her arm to admire its sparkle. ‘However, I think I must dismiss him. He’s becoming quite tiresomely possessive, and you know I can’t tolerate that.’
If she did send him packing, it wouldn’t be because Christopher’s father—or rather, the man who legally filled that role—objected. Lord Vraux and his Lady had gone their separate ways for years, and everyone knew it. Just as they all whispered about the identity of Christopher’s real father and that of his sisters, his elder brother Gregory being the only one of the ‘Vraux Miscellany’ believed to be his lordship’s legitimate offspring.
‘Have you already someone in mind to replace him?’ he asked as he took the seat beside her. ‘Chernworth would happily claim his place. Then there’s that new puppy—Lord Rogers?—following you about, writing execrable verse in your honour.’
‘He’s just a boy,’ his mother said, shaking her head dismissively. ‘Chernworth’s amusing enough, but Kennington has become quite sharp of late. Really, I’m thinking of giving them all up. Retiring to the country, perhaps.’
‘Retiring to the country?’ he echoed. ‘You can’t be serious! Without the shops, theatres and entertainments of London, you’d expire of boredom in a week. And so would Society, without you to sparkle on its stage.’
‘Without me to scandalise and fuel its gossip, you mean,’ she retorted good-naturedly. ‘Still, it might be better to leave that stage while I’m still sought after. Before my beauty fades, and the admirers drift away.’
His charming, effervescent mother looked almost…sad. Surprised, Christopher said, ‘What brought on this green melancholy?’
Picking up a mirror from the table beside her, she inspected her face. ‘See, that wrinkle there?’ she pointed. ‘Kennington teased me about it last night.’
Christopher bent to peer at his mother. ‘That? It’s barely noticeable. Kennington’s an ass. You’ve more than a few good years left before you’re in your dotage! Besides, the girls still need to be settled.’
‘You’d have me attend those dreadful parties full of insipid virgins and their matchmaking mamas?’ His mother shuddered. ‘In any event, I wouldn’t be much help in getting your sisters respectably married. You know all those society beldames detest me.’
He couldn’t dispute that claim. Lady Vraux was much admired—by the masculine members of the ton. Jealous of her beauty, charm and the mesmerising effect she had on men, society’s women were less appreciative. Though her birth and position guaranteed his mama invitations to most society entertainments—as well as to others far less respectable—her successful flaunting of the standards of proper feminine behaviour had won her few female friends.
She shrugged an elegant shoulder. ‘If those women devoted a fraction of the time they spend criticising me to enticing their men, they wouldn’t have to worry about my charms. In any event, I’ll probably call upon your Aunt Augusta to ferry the girls about when the time comes.’
‘Gussie would excel at it,’ Christopher agreed. ‘She thrives on keeping track of who’s pursuing whom and who’s the biggest prize on the Marriage Mart.’ He paused. ‘Maybe I ought to enlist her help. I’ve been thinking…’ He hesitated, not sure, given her probable reaction, he wanted to divulge his intent. ‘Perhaps it’s time I found a wife.’
Shocked silence reigned for a moment before his mother burst out laughing. ‘You, married?’ she said when she’d recovered herself. ‘What nonsense!’
‘No, Mama, I’m serious,’ he protested.
She fixed him with a penetrating look. ‘You’re just lonely, with all your closest friends wed now. Which is hardly a good reason to get yourself leg-shackled. But then, you’re well aware of my opinion on marriage.’
‘I miss my friends, it’s true,’ Christopher admitted. Especially Ben Tawny, who’d been his carousing partner on many occasions—until he met and married his lady. ‘Despite your view of the institution, all the Hellions have found wives who make marriage look quite attractive.’
His mother waved a dismissive hand. ‘But they are all virtually newlyweds, aren’t they? If they remain happy, they will be luckier than most.’
Luckier than she’d been, Christopher knew. His beautiful mother had been married off by her financially hard-pressed father to the highest bidder—Lord Vraux. A connoisseur of all things lovely, the years-older baron had been mad to add to his collection the most dazzling girl of her debut Season. Cold, withdrawn, and remote, he had never been able to give his passionate, outgoing, demonstrative wife the affection or companionship she craved.
Whatever the beldames thought of her morals, none could dispute that she’d been a devoted mother. Especially to Christopher, son of the man rumour said had been the love of her life.
‘You are serious, then?’ his mother demanded, after studying him as he’d sat silent, lost in thought. ‘Have you a candidate in mind?’
‘No. Which is why I need Aunt Augusta. I’m hardly a romantic, Mama. I’m not expecting to discover a woman who inspires me to write bad verse, like Lord Rogers.’
Even if his friends did seem to have found such joy, he thought, the loneliness that had dogged him of late deepened by a wistful envy.
‘All I require is a respectable young lady of good birth who can manage my household and give me heirs. Not a chit right from the schoolroom, of course; even a young widow would do. Although that’s not absolutely required, someone with an interest in politics would be a plus. As I’ve always avoided parties where respectable virgins gather, besides my sisters, I don’t know any. Hence my need for Aunt Gussie.’
‘A respectable young lady of good birth to manage your household and give you heirs? Sounds like a devilishly cold arrangement.’
‘Come now, Mama, you can’t claim to have been rapturously in love with every one of your…admirers!’
‘I was when the liaison began,’ she shot back.
‘A prudent match doesn’t have to be cold,’ he argued, not surprised she resisted the idea, after having been disposed of herself in a completely dispassionate manner. ‘I know better than to wed someone to whom I am indifferent, or who feels nothing for me. There’s no reason I couldn’t share a mutual respect and affection with a more…traditional woman.’
‘“Mutual respect” with a “traditional” woman?’ She shook her head. ‘Christopher, darling, you’re much too like me for such a match to ever work! After a decade of liaisons with the most beautiful, witty and seductive of females, a dutiful, respectable virgin would bore you to flinders. And what of passion?’
‘Just because a female is respectable doesn’t mean she must lack passion.’
She sniffed. ‘If that were true, I’d have far fewer married admirers.’
Giving up on that tack, Christopher continued, ‘I’ve reached the age where the idea of returning home to tranquillity and peace in the arms of a friend sounds more attractive than a night of drinking and debauchery in the bed of a courtesan.’
He wouldn’t admit to her—or even to himself—that the idea of possessing an eminently respectable wife did sound a bit
dull. Or how much the loss of the camaraderie of the three now-married men who’d been closer than family to him for a decade was driving this newfound resolve to take a wife. Once he, too, married, their intimate circle would again be complete.
But above all, he couldn’t confess he felt compelled to wed that eminently respectable female so his own children would never have to wonder who their father was, endure the sniggers and whispers of their peers about their mother—or bear the cold disinterest of the man who was legally their father.
Such a confession would sound too much like an indictment. And despite all the turmoil, slights and indignities he’d endured growing up, he truly did love his volatile mother.
The disapproving expression on her face told him she wasn’t convinced. Before he could think of another argument to persuade her, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of a tall, dark-haired woman.
Seeing him sitting beside his mother, the lady halted, her smile fading. ‘I’m sorry, Felicia! I don’t mean to intrude. Billings told me you were free.’
‘Ellie!’ Lady Vraux cried, jumping up from the couch in a swirl of silken draperies to go meet the newcomer. ‘Of course, you’re not interrupting—I got your note, and was expecting you! How are you, my dear? I haven’t seen you this age!’
Gladness warming him, Christopher stood and drank in the pleasure of watching the quiet elegance that was Ellie Parmenter walk across the room. Though it must be ten years now since they’d met, each time he saw her he felt the same sense of awe—and sharp pull of sensual attraction—he’d felt the first time he’d beheld her in his mother’s drawing room, when he’d returned from Oxford on a term break. Her figure lush and well formed, her movements grace personified, her pale face perfection beneath a curly mass of dark hair, she had huge violet eyes with an air of mystery about them that he’d immediately lost himself in. The young collegian had been first mesmerised, then dismayed and disappointed to discover that this beauty a few years younger than himself was in keeping to a dissolute, much older peer.
Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Page 46
